


Two Sons

by ice_evanesco



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Elisabeth dies, Gen, Mommy Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_evanesco/pseuds/ice_evanesco
Summary: Jonathan Reid meets Jacob Blackwood.





	Two Sons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the vampyr discord server](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+vampyr+discord+server).



> Behold, my triumphant return to writing. /s
> 
> I mean for this to be a one-shot, but if the muses club me on the head, I won't deny them.

Jonathan finds himself on the evening after stumbling out of the ruins of Castle Ashbury. His tears stain his collar, but they won’t stop. In the span of a day he has lost everything dear to him; every hope of building his new life. Memories of Elisabeth, her melodious voice, the green of her eyes, the way her skin felt under his hands-

Meaningless.

His love was not enough. Not enough to keep Mary, not enough to stop Elisabeth. The fever dream of the epidemic ended, taking everything in a tidal wave of blood and sickness, and he finds himself waking into the ceaseless nightmare of eternal life.

Alone.

He almost fails to notice the other man at first. The other Ekon.

It is only when he shadow-jumps across the moat that he does.

The other vampire is standing there, dressed sharply in a coat and the most fashionable suit the ateliers of Paris can afford. His shoes shine inky black, reflecting the pale moonlight that bathes them both. With the stark contrast of dark clothing and pale coloring, he looks almost like a ghost.

The man looks expectantly at him, like a family member waiting for the news of their relative’s recent surgery. He is vaguely familiar, despite Jonathan having never met him in his life. He glances past Jonathan at the castle, and back to him. Then he speaks, in perfect English, just slightly accented with a Parisian accent. His words are heavily sardonic, “Doctor Reid, how is my mother? Will she survive?”

Of course. _Jacob Blackwood._ The painting in the castle. The last thoughts of Carina Billow.

_Lady Blackwood’s progeny._

It is like looking into a warped mirror. Two sons, two lovers.

Jonathan licks his lips.

“She is-” He chokes on the words, and it shouldn’t be this hard. He has spoken them many times.

“Dead, I know. I felt the bond sever.” Jacob gives him the slightest smile. It looks like a trick of light on a statue. “And she left us, her orphan sons, to make our introductions to each other. As always, _ma mere_ is selfish.”

“How can you say that?” Jonathan snaps. “Here and now?”

“You don’t know her like I do. You don’t know her like I have.” Jacob retorts. “Like I had.” The last three words are quiet, veined with grief that the other Ekon doesn’t show otherwise.

They look away from each other.

Jacob moves first, taking out a silver cigarette case, and matches. “Gauloises or Sobranie?” He offers Jonathan. Jonathan doesn’t reply, and Jacob tilts his head. “Help yourself. I know you smoke.”

“Then you have me at a disadvantage, sir.” Jonathan says, stiffly. He accepts the Gauloise.

“We have time.” Jacob murmurs as he strikes a match. “Time is all we have, my brother.”

They smoke in silence, before Jonathan abruptly speaks. “I know about Carina. What you did to her.”

“You received my little gift then.” Jacob’s grey eyes catch the light, silver like the cigarette case, sharp as a knife. “A little jest, nothing more.”

“She was a _person.”_ Jonathan feels the darkness rise in him, the righteous outrage that the beast within him twisted into bloodlust.

“She knew the wrong people. Like our little sister Charlotte, for example.” Jacob spoke lightly, casually.

“Don’t you dare.” Jonathan warns.

“I have no feud with either of you.” Jacob takes a slow drag of the cigarette, leaning on the side of his own vehicle. “My anger is towards our dear mother.”

“Because she left you?” Jonathan finds himself derisive.

“Because she made me _this_ .” The vampire gestures to himself, a hand sweeping down his form sharply. “I could have been _something_ . I could have had a life. A wife, children. I was never what one might call normal, but I might have had something other than _this._ ” His words finish on a hiss, fangs bared. “Her toy, used and discarded.”

Jonathan feels the words catch in his throat.

“I spent the better part of the last century trying to find her.” Jacob continues, and this outward spill of grief and rage is something Jonathan finds familiar. He had felt it from Mary, not too long ago. “Only to find her as Lady Ashbury. As if none of it mattered. As if I didn’t matter. For all that we had, I was a mere footnote in her history.”

“I will not be forgotten by her.”

“You could have stopped her.” Jonathan says the first thing that comes to his mind. “You’re older- you could have restrained her-”

“She never gave me access.” Jacob snarls at him. “She didn’t want her dear father to see what she had done. She didn’t want him to see me.” He clenches his jaw, blinks, and the emotion is gone. “Like I said, she wants nothing to do with me. I am her past. You were supposed to be her present, her future.”

The words hang in the mist, unsaid. _You failed too._

“She had a portrait of you.” Jonathan speaks after some moments. “In the castle.”

“Us in Marie Antoinette’s court?” Jacob asks. There is cautious, fragile hope. It looks alien, as though the other man has not let himself the luxury of hope, all these years. As if he has kept himself angry, and vengeful, for something to live for.

“Yes.” Jonathan’s voice is kind. He can find some kindness in himself for this man, this poor beast.

Jacob’s face crumples - Jacob crumples, a low animalistic cry coming from him as he drops the cigarette and his hands come up to shield his face. 

Jonathan finds himself grabbing Jacob - his brother- wrapping strong arms around him, and holding on. Jacob clings to him, fingers digging into his arms like he’s about to be swept away by a tidal wave.

When they part, Jacob says, almost fiercely, “I won’t thank you for this.”

“I never expected you to.” Jonathan murmurs. They glance at the ruins. “Where will you go?”

“To find myself.” Jacob straightens his coat, and the mask is in place, immaculate. Not a single tear had been shed, despite his emotion. “I built my life around her; I must make myself a new one. And you?” He sounds almost like he doesn’t care, but Jonathan is starting to learn that the fact that he asked proves otherwise.

“The blood of hate- It’s what made her Lady Blackwood. It flowed in her veins and flows now in yours. I must find a cure. If I can do that-” _you can have your life again._

Jacob’s mouth twists, “Young Ekon are always so idealistic.” There is something almost fond, something nostalgic. “Go now, little brother. Welcome to this brave new world.” He steps forward, and Jonathan feels a press of lips against his own. Then nothing. 

A car door slams, the engine starts, and Jonathan is alone again, but not devoid of hope. He lets out a quiet laugh, savouring the feeling blooming in his chest, “Oh, dear Elisabeth, you never cease to amaze.”   



End file.
